


Ever After

by kethni



Series: Ranch Life [1]
Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22619350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Relationships: Ben Cafferty/Kent Davison
Series: Ranch Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838098
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Ever After

Ben scowled out of the window as the car drew to a halt. Through the window, he could see a neat ranch house. Too neat. It looked more like an ad than a place where people lived and worked.

‘This blows,’ he said.

Kent sighed. ‘You said that you would give it a try.’

‘I didn’t,’ Ben said. ‘I wouldn’t say that. I don’t give things a try. I hate everything.’

‘That is certainly true,’ Kent said, opening his door.

Ben crossed his arms and didn’t move as Kent walked around to the trunk and began taking out the suitcases.

‘Get out of the car,’ Kent said.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Not with that attitude.’ Kent slammed the trunk shut and carried the suitcases into the house.

Ben checked to see if Kent had hidden a spare car key in the window shades. He didn’t. Ben had never done that either but even so, he felt betrayed.

Ben unbuckled his seatbelt. Not because he was gonna get out of the car. Hell no. He wasn’t gonna do that.

***

Ben stamped into the ranch house and glared around the vestibule. There were a few rugs on the floor and some paintings of horses on the walls. No civil war stuff though. No Confederate flags. Thank fuck for that. In his long career Ben had been dragged into places that made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t see any reason why he should put up with it when he was on his own time.

His “own time,” ha. As if. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted.

‘If you’re just going to stand there sighing heavily then you might as well go back.’

Ben looked up at the landing that ran around the upper floor, connecting a dozen doors. Kent was leaning over the bannister looking down at him.

‘Fine. I will.’

‘Go on then.’

‘I’m gonna,’ Ben said.

‘I’m not stopping you,’ Kent replied.

Ben snorted. ‘You’re not stopping me. That’s rich. You not stopping me doing something I want to. That’d be nice.’

Kent pursed his lips. ‘Are you quite done?’

Ben shrugged. ‘I don’t have my key for the car.’

‘Then I suppose you’ll have to walk back to the city, won’t you?’

Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Where’s the kitchen?’

Kent straightened up. ‘Third on the left. I’ve put the coffee machine on.’

Ben shambled towards the kitchen. ‘Are we gonna get Uber Eats or what? Do they have any kind of food delivery here? Do we have to call up a farmer and have him deliver a whole pig?’

‘Go make coffee,’ Kent called. ‘And don’t forget to take your meds!’

Ben rolled his eyes as he pushed open the kitchen door. He had alarms on his cell and notes in his planner, but god forbid Kent not go out of his way to tell him not to forget.

Ben wasn’t a domestic guy. When he was in college he had lived on ramen and toast. His cookery skills hadn’t much developed since then. One of the reasons he had spent so many years as a serial monogamist was because if left to his own devices he would die of malnutrition.

Among other things.

Kent had brought in a couple boxes of supplies. Ben opened the flaps and looked inside. He didn’t know why really. There wasn’t likely to be anything especially exciting in there. Kent knew that Ben’s palate was a lot less wild and crazy than his own. Kent would try any damn thing, as long as he thought it was done _correctly_. Whatever that happened to be.

Ben opened a couple of cupboards randomly. Then the rest of the cupboards. In one of them he found a lot of baking stuff. There was even some vanilla essence in a tiny little bottle. Ben closed his eyes and took a small sniff. Vanilla essence was the smell of his mom baking on a Saturday morning. Ben used to clamber up onto a chair and watch her. Sometimes he’d hold this or stir that. It was a quiet, soft time in the week. They’d whisper together. When he was very small, he thought it was just fun. When he was older, he realised they were trying not to wake his pop. Later still he appreciated that it was both. Waking pop was to be avoided at all costs, but they didn’t need to whisper to do that.

He found a couple coffee mugs and poured out the coffee. There was milk in the refrigerator. It smelled okay so he splashed it into the two mugs.

‘I’m afraid to ask what on earth you’ve been doing in here,’ Kent remarked.

Ben shrugged as he turned around. ‘Just figured I’d see what was in there.’

Kent began shutting the doors. ‘There are decent bathroom facilities, if you wanted to freshen up.’

‘You saying that I stink?’

Kent shook his head. ‘Yes, Ben, I’m saying that you stink. It can’t possibly be that you’re in a foul mood and I’m trying to think of things that you might like or even, unlikely as it seems, appreciate.’

Ben flicked the bottle of vanilla essence with his finger. ‘My mom used to use that stuff.’

Kent shifted from foot to foot. ‘What did she bake?’ he asked more diffidently.

‘Lot of cakes. Cookies sometimes.’ Ben smiled. ‘Real sweet tooth.’

‘That must have been… comforting.’

Ben grabbed the bottle and shoved it back in the cupboard. ‘What is there to do for fun in this piece of shit backwater?’

‘Well, there’s a film noir festival in town,’ Kent said. ‘Although I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in that.’

Ben sipped his coffee. ‘Like what?’

Kent pulled a leaflet out of pocket. ‘Tonight, they’re showing… _Kiss Me Deadly_ and _Double Indemnity_. Tomorrow the theme is modern film noir. The highlights seem to be _Chinatown_ and _L.A. Confidential_.’

Ben shrugged. ‘Could be okay.’

‘Good.’

‘I hope you didn’t drag me all the way here just so you can gawp at Russell Crowe on the big screen,’ Ben added.

Kent failed to look innocent. ‘Would I do that?’

‘I don’t know what the fuck you might do,’ Ben said. ‘Especially chasing after tail.’

***

“Freshening up,” what a fucking joke. By the time that they got the stool in there and Ben get undressed and sat down he was sweating.

The long, thick scar on his chest was vivid purple. People said, “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger,” and it was bullshit. By now Ben would be Superman if that was the case.

‘It’s looking much better,’ Kent said, checking the temperature of the water against his hand.

‘Is it? What the fuck did it look like when they first did it?’

It wasn’t meant to be… anything really. Ben said a lot of things mostly just to hear himself speak, or to fill in an otherwise awkward silence. It sure as hell wasn’t supposed to make Kent grow quiet and uncomfortable.

‘It looked like you’d been hurriedly cut open by people desperately attempting to save your life.’

Ben rested his hands on his knees. ‘You don’t have anything more poetic?’

Kent drew his brows together. ‘It looked like you had been attacked by a small chainsaw and the resulting wound was stitched up with barbed wire by a blind butcher.’

‘More colourful I guess,’ Ben said. ‘Not exactly what I’d call poetry though.’

Kent handed him the shower head. ‘Forgive me for not finding the subject particularly inspiring.’

Ben spread out his arms. ‘Even with me as your muse?’

Kent managed a small smile. ‘I’ve always thought of you as more of a satyr.’

‘That would probably be insulting if I knew what it meant,’ Ben said. ‘But I don’t, so I win.’

***

‘Nope,’ Ben said.

‘I’m thinking of instituting a “negativity jar,” and make you put a dollar in every time you refuse to even consider doing something that is for your benefit,’ Kent said.

Ben scowled as he buttoned up his coat. ‘How is me collapsing on the street beneficial for me? Beneficial for you, maybe. Finally get the life insurance and all that BS. No good for me though.’

Kent sniffed. ‘What life insurance? No insurance company in the world would touch a sixty-two-year-old man who’s had five heart attacks, is overweight, has high blood pressure, two types of diabetes, and alcoholism.’

Ben straightened his hat. ‘You’re right. I’d be much better insuring and then murdering you.’

‘Sure, and then you’d keel over and die from the exertion,’ Kent said, unimpressed. ‘And my niece would get everything anyway.’

Ben followed him outside. ‘You’re leaving everything to your niece?’

‘Of course.’

They walked along the pathway; a little too slowly for Kent and a little too quickly for Ben.

‘Don’t gimmie that. Don’t “of course,” me. Why aren’t you leaving everything to me?’

‘Because you don’t need anything from me.’

Ben bumped Kent with his shoulder. ‘Bullshit.’

‘If you’re not going to believe my answer then why ask the question?’

‘You think I’m gonna die first,’ Ben accused.

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, I do. Barring complete fluke accidents, you are certainly going to die first and we both know that.’

It was Ben’s turn to be quiet. ‘Yeah. We do.’ He let his hand bump against Kent’s hand, and then caught Kent’s fingers with his own. Kent squeezed his fingers.

‘If you don’t feel up to walking back then either we’ll get a cab or I’ll come get the car and drive you back,’ Kent said.

‘You think this one-horse town has cabs? Is it an Amish guy riding a pig?’

Kent chuckled. ‘Why would an Amish man be riding a _pig_? They famously have horses.’

‘Because it’s a one-horse town. Pay attention.’

Kent nodded. ‘Right. A one-horse town with a film festival, hotels, and restaurants.’

Ben ignored this. ‘How far are you making me walk?’

‘Less than a mile.’

‘I don’t wanna think what Doc Chabut is gonna say about this.’ Ben shook his head sadly.

Kent pursed his lips. ‘She would doubtless say that she had been attempting to get you to take gentle exercise for weeks.’

‘Gentle exercise is a damn contradiction is terms,’ Ben grumbled.

***

Ben let go of Kent’s hand before they joined the main town. He wasn’t _ashamed_ , although he’d never walked around hand in hand with any of his wives either. Mostly though he just didn’t have any faith in human beings generally. Human beings were fucking terrible. As much as public displays of affection from _anyone_ make Ben feel nauseated, the idea of being beaten up by some small-town assholes was even less welcome.

‘There, see, cinema and restaurant easily within walking distance,’ Kent said, gesturing.

‘You think a ten-mile hike is easy walking distance.’

‘I think that you just enjoy complaining,’ Kent retorted.

‘Like you don’t complain,’ Ben said.

‘Certainly not on the level that you do.’ Kent pushed his hair back. ‘Would you like to get something to eat before we watch a movie?’

‘Do I have to eat diet stuff?’

Kent shrugged. ‘How invested are you in not dying before me?’

Ben scratched his ear. ‘I could shoot you. That’d be a lot easier than eating properly.’

‘True,’ Kent said. ‘But then you’d end up being executed.’

Ben walked along with him towards the restaurant. ‘Yeah, but between the court backlog, appeals, and the general fuckwittery of the DOJ, it might take them twenty-five years to _actually_ execute me. And I’ll already be dead by then.’

Kent held the restaurant door open for him. ‘The perfect murder.’

‘I’d still be in prison.’

‘No bills to pay. Limited contact with ex-wives. All your meals made for you. I would think that you would consider prison an ideal environment in which to live out your golden years.’

‘I’ll give you golden years,’ Ben grumbled.

‘That’s not up to your usual standard,’ Kent observed.

‘I’m really hungry.’

***

Ben compromised by having fish. That was healthy, right? Kent muttered about the cream sauce, but Ben had to pour _something_ over his salmon, potatoes, and the butter-fried vegetables. But Ben only had a small glass of white wine and skipped dessert. It wasn’t as much fun watching Kent’s blood pressure rise as he liked to pretend. Kent ordered and ate spatchcock and rolled his eyes when Ben sniggered.

Kent checked his watch as they stepped out of the restaurant.

‘Time for the movie?’ Ben grunted.

‘If you’re feeling up to it.’

‘Well –’

‘The _movie_ ,’ Kent interrupted. ‘As well you know.’

‘You don’t know what I was going to say!’

‘We both know that I do.’

Ben scowled. ‘I feel fine. But if you fall asleep, I’m gonna tell the ushers that I have nothing to do with you.’

They walked towards the cinema.

‘ _If_ I fall asleep it’s because I have had a very long and tiring day,’ Kent said tartly.

‘It’s sure as fuck not because I’ve been wearing you out,’ Ben sniffed.

Kent looked at him askance. ‘On the contrary, you exhaust me daily.’

***

It had been years since Ben had actually been to the movies and sat through a whole one. Just the time to do that still felt unbelievably luxurious, even now when his days were no longer spent running from one meeting, emergency, or disaster to another. But Kent loved movies, even if his tastes tended way too much towards the arty stuff than Ben liked. The amount of times that Ben had zoned out watching some French thing at home with Kent only to realise that Kent had fallen asleep... He could’ve probably become fluent if he’d actually been paying attention.

They sat towards the back of the theatre. A compromise. Ben was of the firm opinion that the only point of compromises was to make sure everyone was unhappy. Kent liked to sit in the middle. Right in the middle. He said it was the best view. Ben said it made him feel too exposed. He didn’t want everyone looking at him. That argument just got raised eyebrows and a “why do you imagine _anyone_ would want to look at you when they’ve paid good money to watch the screen?’

Because that wasn’t the point. The point was that he wanted some fucking privacy to sit with his… whatever the hell people called it now. Look, Ben wasn’t one of these guys who made a point of staying up on this stuff. He’d spent decades married and raising kids. Not married to the same person for more than a few years but that didn’t have anything to do with it. Things had changed, sure. There were lots of places where he and Kent _could’ve_ walked down the main street hand in hand without so much as a second glance from anyone around them. There were also lots of places where trying that would get them beaten up, or worse. Even places Ben knew were safe, he didn’t feel safe. Let alone comfortable. He was too old, okay? He remembered too many stories of beatings. He was too well-informed. He’d briefed bosses on too many murders.

Ben had wanted to sit on the back row. Kent had rolled his eyes and said something about courting teenagers. He wasn’t wrong and that was annoying as fuck. If they’d sat on the back row, they’d have been slap bang among “courting” teenagers doing what teenagers had been doing together in dark places since the world began. He and Kent would’ve probably been arrested just for being adults in the vicinity. 

So, they sat a couple rows short of the back row, in the middle. Kent got an okay view and Ben put his hand over Kent’s hand and felt a little exposed doing it. Everyone else, aside from the back row, were people their own age within fifteen years either way. Most of them looking _old_. Ben didn’t feel old. He felt like he’d stopped maturing at maybe thirty while the world went on around him. Even so, there was something kind of comforting about old movies. They weren’t loud. There wasn’t an explosion every ten minutes. Even the actors who he _knew_ were only thirty-five looked about fifty. These were the movies he’d seen when he was little. Sometimes he’d turned up the volume loud over the sound of his dad yelling and his mom sobbing. They were the sounds that barricaded out the world.

Kent squeezed his hand. That was comforting too. It was other things as well, it still sent sparks up his spine, but it was also a comfort. Ben shifted a little in his seat. He let his shoulder rest against Kent’s. He wasn’t putting his head on Kent’s shoulder or any of that stuff. There was a _limit._

‘You okay?’ Kent whispered.

‘Yeah. Shut up.’

He heard Kent make a little “hmmf” noise and felt him turn his attention back to the screen. Ben let his leg fall out slightly and his knee just rest against Kent’s.

***

It was dark when they came out of the cinema. Ben looked up at the sky.

‘Look at all those stars.’

‘There’s less light pollution here.’

Ben rolled his eyes. ‘I say something is pretty and you talk science.’

Kent cocked his head. ‘You didn’t say it was pretty.’

‘It was _implied_. You’ve got no romance in your soul.’

Kent chuckled. ‘I’m being lectured on romance by you.’

‘Assuming that you even have a soul,’ Ben continued. ‘That could be the major problem right there.’

Kent sighed. ‘Shall I find a cab, or would you prefer I fetch the car?’

Ben shrugged. ‘Let’s walk.’

‘There’s no need to push yourself beyond your capability. Least of all due to some sort of stubbornness.’

‘Are you coming or not?’

Kent shrugged. ‘As you like.’

‘Don’t do me any favours will you?’

Kent pulled on his gloves. ‘I would _love_ not to do you any favours.’

They walked along the street, perhaps a little closer than onlookers might’ve expected. When Ben remembered he moved slightly farther away. He didn’t remember very often.

‘How long are we stuck here playing Farmer Browns?’ Ben asked.

‘Farmers Brown,’ Kent corrected. ‘And we’re here for your recuperation.’

‘Great, I’m recuperated. Let’s go home.’ Ben turned to focus on a shadow in the bushes.

‘You aren’t and we aren’t,’ Kent said. ‘What are you looking at?’

‘A cat or something.’ He knew what would happen as soon as he said it. So, he smirked as Kent immediately turned around and began looking for the cat. ‘You’re like a fucking child.’

‘That coming from you.’

It was a good five minutes for Ben to get his breath back and let his heart rate settle a little. The best part being that Kent was too distracted petting the cat that he didn’t notice that Ben was recovering a little. At least, Ben hoped he didn’t notice.

‘How do you like cats so much and children so little?’ Ben asked as they resumed walking.

‘I don’t dislike children.’ Kent set his shoulders. ‘I don’t know where that belief comes from. Selina Meyer thought the same thing.’

‘You don’t have any kids,’ Ben pointed out.

‘You _do_ ,’ Kent said. ‘And you are hardly an example of someone who likes children.’

Ben opened the gate to the ranch. ‘I just hate people. All people.’

Kent’s moustache twitched. ‘Even children?’

‘They’re people. Just about.’ Ben clapped his hands together to warm them up as Kent unlocked the door. ‘People without the filters that stop adults from constantly throwing punches at each other.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re complaining about other people not having filters. You. Ben Cafferty.’

Ben pushed past him. ‘I’ve got filters. There’s a difference between having something and not using it and just not having it.’

Kent nodded. ‘Yes, the difference is that you choosing not to use your filter, makes you far more culpable than people who just don’t have one.’

‘Smart ass.’

***

The bedroom was chilly but that was okay. Kent found some blankets in the wardrobe and lay them on the bed. They curled up underneath the covers shivering theatrically and pretending to be more uncomfortable than they actually were.

‘Hey.’

‘What?’

‘How about a quickie?’

‘You must be joking.’

Ben shuffled closer. ‘It’s been weeks and I’m only human you know.’

‘You’ve been in hospital for weeks!’ Kent retorted.

Ben rolled onto his back. ‘Right. Tell me again how I nearly died. I never get tired of feeling weak and crappy.’

Kent sighed. ‘I say it because you don’t act as if you’re taking it seriously.’

Ben looked at him. ‘I have to do that.’

‘I know.’ Kent sighed. ‘I take it seriously for both of us and you _don’t_ take it seriously for both of us.’

‘How about a blowie?’ Ben suggested.

Kent laughed. ‘I think maybe we can do that.’

The End


End file.
